


Splash of Colours (WIP)

by 01123581321345589



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Attempted rape recovery, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Freeform, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Gore, No Incest, No Sex, No Smut, No Underage Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, So much angst, Suffering, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/01123581321345589/pseuds/01123581321345589
Summary: Another generic fanfic of Rick caring comforting a suicidal and broken Morty post-Meeseeks and Destroy. Totally OOC Rick because I'm terrible at writing and just want to imagine Rick opening up emotionally to Morty. Stammer/burping appears as and when I think it's relevant to the story. The rest of the time it's implied. I usually find it jarring to read, so I didn't write it in.





	1. Chapter 1

Morty curled himself up under his duvet, pulling down any gaps allowing the light to creep in. His head screamed and span endlessly. The birds tweeted outside, adding to Morty's pain. He groaned hollowly. He could smell bacon, then hear muffled voices. His family were eating breakfast.

Footsteps came halfway up the steps.

“Morty?” His mother’s voice called up the steps. “Are you coming down for breakfast”

His breath still smelled like last night's alcohol. Obviously, no one had noticed it was missing yet. He knew he was in the shit when they realised it was gone.

“Uh... I'll be-” He clutched his head. Talking was so painful right now. “be down in a while, I'm just going to shower.”

“Oh... Well... Your bacon is going to get cold... You could shower after-”

“It's okay, Mom, I'm not hungry anyway. I'll have some cereal later.”

Morty heard his mother's footsteps descend back down the stairs. He wriggled free of his quilt cocoon.

The light blinded him and he screwed his face up. As he adjusted he assessed the result of last night.

“Shit...” He breathed.

What had started off as a litre bottle of vodka was mostly gone. There was vomit on the floor, he'd pulled all his clothes out of the wardrobe, the lamp was broken (he wondered how he didn't wake anyone up).

And blood. There was blood all over the lamp shards and floor near the bed.

“What the...” He looked down. His arms were covered in blood and tied up in some old t-shirts, obviously to stem the flow. “Oh, geez.”

He thanked his stars that his mother had stayed halfway downstairs.

He bundled his clothing into the bottom of the wardrobe and stuffed the lampshade pieces hastily under the bed. He pulled the rug from the centre of the floor over to cover the vomit and blood on the carpet. _At least this way if anyone walks in, they won't see anything._ He thought.

He opened the door and peered around it. No one was upstairs. He darted to the bathroom and slammed the door, having taken the remaining vodka with him.

He heard the front door close downstairs, then the car start. His parents leaving for work. His sister was away on vacation with friends, and his grandfather would undoubtedly already be back in the garage. He turned the shower on and sat on the lid of the toilet and began unravelling his drunken-makeshift bandages.

The bottom layer clung to his skin, the blood having soaked through and congealed, stuck them to his arms like superglue.

Beginning to panic, he tugged at the edges. It didn't shift. He chugged the last of the vodka and tried not to cry out from the burning. He wasn't prepared to feel the pain from this. Not yet. Or ever.

He stepped into the shower, not even able to remove his pyjama shirt because of the dangling blotchy t-shirts.

“Shit.” he muttered. Peeling the shirt away from his skin. The flesh was gaping apart in several places, obviously sliced apart by broken pieces of the lamp. The blood flowing freely, refreshed by the lack of clotting to the shirt, and the water. He took a deep breath and hastily yanked the shirt from the other arm.

The water in the bottom of the shower turned a dark crimson.

Morty's vertigo kicked into overdrive. His head span and he dropped suddenly to his knees and vomited into the plughole.

“I... Am so...  _fucked_.” He cried, curling up under the warm attack of the water before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick put his screwdriver down and shook his flask.

“Fuck. Empty.” He sighed and used the desk to pull himself to his feet, traipsing his way to the kitchen liquor cabinet.

“I'm sure I had some booz-... Huh.” He peered into the cupboard and then stopped, recalling the noise Morty was making stumbling around his room the night before. “Little dipshit, can't he buy his own fucking booze?!” he grunted, shuffling to the steps. “Morty! Hey, asshole!”

Morty didn't reply. Rick sighed and began up the stairs. “Next time, buy your own fucking booze! Oh wait! You can't! So, don't fucking drink mine!”

He slammed Morty's door open.

“Jesus! It smells like somebody fuckin' died in here. Did you vomit in the bed?!” Rick shouted, flinging the quilt back.

“Uhh... Morty?” He stared down at the empty bed. Something squelched under his foot. “What?”

He looked down at the rug and flipped it back. “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, looking at the vomit and blood, wide-eyed. “Morty?!”

He flung the wardrobe open and checked under the bed. Only mess. He'd expected vomit, but not blood. Never blood. Blood belonged on Morty's _inside_. Not on the outside.

Rick finally noticed the sound of the shower running. He ran to the bathroom door and pushed. Of course, it was locked.

“Morty? Morty, you have 5 seconds to open this door or I'm breaking into there, I don't care what's on display!”

The silence felt like a horrifying cold eternity as he counted down in his head. He scrabbled through his lab coat for a screwdriver and jammed it into the screw-back of the lock. He kicked the door back.

“Oh shit! Morty!” He tugged the shower door open and dropped down, immediately checking for a pulse. “Morty. Wake up! Can you hear me?”

There was a pulse. A weak one, but it was there.

Rick turned off the shower and scooped up Morty's unconscious body.

“Fuckin' shit, dude, what have you done to yourself?”

Morty stirred momentarily. “R-... Rick?”

“Morty! Morty look at me. You have to stay awake!” Rick spoke with a great sense of urgency. He descended the stairs and made way to the garage. “We're going to fix this!”

“Rick... I'm sorry... I don't know-” Morty slurred before losing consciousness again.


	3. Chapter 3

Morty awoke to silence and warmth. The scent of alcohol was familiar but distant and intermingled with chemicals, cigarettes, and various otherworldly aromas. His whole body ached. His mouth tasted metallic. Morty groaned as his memory began to return, and heard a movement across the room.

“Morty?”

Morty felt a familiar hand touch his own. He opened his eyes and waited for the blur to dissipate and focussed. He was in a hospital-like bed, in what he recognised as Rick's space under the garage. He looked up to Rick who was standing above him. He heard a click and the top half of the bed tilted upright at an angle so he could see the room better.

“Rick? Rick I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, everything is a blank and I think-” Morty rushed, but Rick shushed him.

“It's okay. _You're_ going to be okay. We're going to get you better.”

“Ple... Please don't tell Mom and Dad.” Morty's voice wavered. The thought of having to relive everything to them was terrifying.

“I haven't told them anything. I froze time when I found you, and I'll unfreeze it again when you're healed.”

“Oh... Thank you.” Morty sounded surprised.

“I couldn't let them see me kill you for stealing my booze you little dipshit, and I want you to be healed so you can feel it!” Rick shouted. Morty cringed into the bed but Rick leant down and grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace, and whispered gently “I'm so glad you're alive. You very nearly weren't. I didn't think I was going to be able to save my Morty.”

Morty relaxed into the hug and tried to reciprocate, but found his arms strapped to the bars either side of the bed.

“Uhh... W-Why am I-”

“Oh. I didn't know if you were going to freak out when you woke up. I wanted to make sure you were safe.” Rick let go and loosened the straps. Morty tried to sit himself upright but Rick put a gentle hand on his chest to push him back down into the bed. “Don't sit up. You lost a lot of blood and there was a lot of trauma. Your body needs all the energy you have on healing those wounds.”

Morty looked down at himself.

“Uhh... That sure is a lot of tubes.” Morty said, half in marvel, half ashamed at all the work his grandfather had put into keeping him alive. Anything to keep himself from focussing on the neat bandages covering his arms.

“Yeah, it is.” Rick sat down in the desk-chair that he'd positioned beside the bed. “That one's normal sodium chloride to keep you hydrated, that one's quantum morphine, so you're totally wrecked right now to stop the pain, those ones there are to monitor kidney and liver function and directly inject Krogalian renalamine, and Lorbaxian isolade to keep them functioning. This one was for regular tests for septicaemia and to administer co-amoxiclav. Those are monitoring heart-rate, blood pressure, temperature...” Rick pointed half-heartedly to each item, keen to show off his genius, but overtaken by concern and exhaustion. His face was ashen, and his eyes were dark.

Morty tried to move but realised it was going to be difficult without tangling himself up. He settled for turning his head away. He didn't want to be seen. He wanted the bed to open up and swallow him into the mattress. He wanted the whole thing to go away.

“I'm sorry. I never wanted to cause all of this. I wish- I-I wish I'd just died before you found me.”

“Well that hurts.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Rick made fists for a second, “Don't ever fuckin' _apologise_ for feeling like shit, Morty. Apologise for _being a piece of shit_ when you are, but don't _ever_ apologise for how you feel. Just-” Rick sighed and slumped in his seat. He rubbed his neck nervously. “Just... I-I just wish you could've told me how you feel. I know I give you shit for your usual neuroses, but that's because you're a kid and it's typical teenage shit that you're gonna figure out without help. If you'd come to me, told me you felt like... Like...” His throat closed, he couldn't even bring himself to say 'suicide' or 'dying'. The thought hurt far too much, he couldn't face it. Even verbally. “What I'm saying is I could've tried to help before it got to this.” He hesitated again. “I'm sorry you didn't feel you could come to me.”

Morty pulled the blanket over his face. Rick sat patiently, but the silence was thick and broken only by the occasional sniffle from under the blanket.

Eventually Morty spoke.

“I just want him to go away when I close my eyes, Rick, but every time I close my eyes he is still there. Every time I look in a mirror I have to check over my shoulder because I see him behind me. Every time I go near a public bathroom I feel like I can't breathe. I just want it all to stop. Why won't it go away?!”

Rick felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. It ached for his grandson's pain. Rick took his flask out and chugged some of the contents. Morty eyed the flask and quickly looked away again. Rick watched him and put the flask back out of sight.

“He's dead you know. I killed him. You watched me do it.”

“I saw your put your arm through a portal, but what if you missed? Or what if you hit him but he didn't die? Even if he did die, infinite dimensions and all that, what if another one is out there? And-and-and w-what if-if-if-” Morty suddenly covered his face and shook his head, hyperventilating. “I can't live like this, I'm sorry!” he clutched frantically at wires and tubes at random and ripped them violently from his body, he shrieked and his vision went white, but he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the bar of the bed. Rick jumped up and tried to set him back down but Morty shoved himself with determination onto the floor. He landed and dropped to his knees, trying weakly to get back onto his feet.

Rick got down gently on one knee and pulled Morty into another hug. He clutched tightly onto him.

“Morty. He can't get to you now. I'm here. I'll never let him get near you ever again. All the time I'm here you're safe. I-I... I pro-promise.”

Morty's breath juddered at he clutched his grandfather's lab coat and cried hard into his shirt. Rick stood up and lifted him like he was a small child, and cradled him awkwardly as he reclined into the chair again, enveloping Morty's small, vulnerable frame with his long arms. He gently stroked the back of the boy's chestnut hair, as he scooted the chair gently to the fridge in the corner and edged an arm around the door and procured a bottle of water, then ruffled through the plastic drawers beside it and got out a pill bottle. He scooted back over to the bed and put them on the bedside.


	4. Chapter 4

Morty's breathing had slowed in the comfort of Rick’s lap. Rick looked down and tilted Morty's head up by the chin and Morty averted eye contact.

“Sorry, kid, I thought you'd fallen asleep.” He said, giving a half-smile despite the anguish he felt for the boy.

“I can't, that's where he waits for me.”

“I know. I'll be right here for you when you wake up.” Rick comforted, Morty shrugged and nodded. “I _do_ have to put you back on the bed though, kid, if I don't at least get that quantum morphine drip back into you, you're going to have a lot of pain very quickly.”

“O-okay.” Morty said, barely a whisper.

Rick shifted Morty back onto the bed and curled his fingers around one of Morty's wrists firmly.

“I'm sorry, Morty, I have to strap you back in.”

“Please... Not yet.” Morty pleaded. Rick looked into the boy's eyes and saw fear. He slumped his shoulders and loosened his grip.

“Okay, I'll redo your equipment first, but I have to lock you down when I sleep. You're not stable enough emotionally right now, and I can't lose you.”

Morty sat on the bed and curled his legs up to his chest and hugged them. He spotted blood coming through his bandages and his breath hitched and quickened, but Rick softly covered it with his hand.

“Lay back, I can fix that in a minute.” he reassured Morty. He patted Morty on the shoulder, and Morty shot away from his arm.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” he yelled, balling up on the opposite side of the bed. Rick snatched his arm back away from the boy, who was staring at him wild eyed and drawing rapid, shallow breaths. Morty wrapped his arms behind his heck and grabbed clumps of his own hair and held himself rigid. Rick noticed Morty's eyes were not looking directly at him, but rather as though he was looking through him, at something that wasn't there.

“Uh... Earth to Morty... Come in, M-Morty?” Rick spoke in a gentle growl, desperate to hold him safe, but scared to touch him, like his fingers might burn his flesh. Morty suddenly spun to look behind him, and his breathing slowed a little, he lost some of his excessive rigidity and turned back to look at Rick. “Breath in and count to four, Morty.” Rick soothed. “One... Two... Three... Four. And the same out... Two... Three... Four...”

Rick timed the boy's breathing for him until it returned to something resembling normality. Morty shuffled over to the side of the bed nearest Rick. Rick sat down in the chair and leaned his arms on the rail of the bed. Morty leaned towards him and shivered.

“Do you want another hug?” Rick asked, feeling as though touching him again would break him. Morty nodded and Rick wrapped an arm softly around Morty and leaned his head atop Morty's own.

“I-i-it's like sometimes everything's vanishing around me, and I'm still stuck in that bathroom, and he's still there, and I'm alone with him again, trying to... trying...” Morty felt himself going stiff again and shook himself violently. “I-I-I can't.”

Rick hushed him. “Shh, shh. Don't push yourself. You'll be ready when you're ready.”

They sat there silently for what felt like 20 years. Eventually Morty flinched.

“You alright, kid?”

“Hurts.” he said, simply, pulling one arm in with the other and cradling it. Rick unwrapped his arms from around the kid and went to the drawers. Pulling out new needles and tubes.

“Gonna have to run a new line in for each of these, we'll do pain relief first, hopefully you won't have to feel the rest.” Rick mumbled, almost to himself. He meticulously reattached each item to each machine, before attaching a needle to the end of the first item and peeling the sterile wrapper off. “You might feel a sh-sharp pri-pr-... sting.”

Morty watched Rick's long fingers work the crook of his elbow for a vein, he barely even noticed the sting as the needle slid under his skin, too engrossed in his grandfather's delicate hand motions.

“You've done this before.” Morty commented noting the swiftness of his motions as he attached each item back to Morty.

“Yeah, earlier before you ripped them all out... Dipshit.” Rick said, not even looking away from his work.

“No... The-the way you move... That's experience, you've done a lot of this... Were you a doctor?”

“No, kid, I've just spent a lot of time in an unforgiving universe where sometimes hospitals are too far away. You learn to stay alive. You learn t-t-to protect your own.” He hesitated on the last sentence, choking slightly. _And where was I instead of protecting my own when all this happened to Morty? Oh yeah, playing a game and singing in a pub. I should have noticed he was gone so long._

Morty felt the wooziness of the pain relief kicking back in this time. His head felt like cotton and he laid back and focused on Rick’s breathing, trying to imitate it. Slow, steady, concentrated. Not deep like a sigh, but not shallow like his own suffocating breaths. He was disturbed when Rick cleared his throat and moved away from the last IV line.

“Still not asleep, kid?” Rick tilted his head and cooked an eyebrow at Morty. Morty shook his head.

“I’ve been asleep for days.” He said, almost reasoning with himself about staying awake.

“No. You were _unconscious_ for days. There’s no REM phase. Your body wasn’t restoring energy supplies. It was literally shutting down unnecessary functions to preserve itself.” Rick rambled slightly, “You’re exhausted. You weren’t sleeping before all of this. You haven’t been since we got back from _that_ adventure. I’m n-n-n-not fucking stupid.”

Morty shrugged.

“I fight it until I can’t anymore. You w-w-wouldn’t understand.”

Rick went to defend himself but held his tongue. Maybe he _didn’t_ understand the boy’s exact trauma, but he definitely understood running from his own memory. He slumped his shoulders eventually in response.

“It sounds like a lonely place to be if you k-k-keep it locked inside like that. I’m not going to push for details right now but I will need to ask for some later. For the rest, well, I’m just here when you need to talk.” He said, as he carefully took one of Morty’s forearms and tugged the tape on the bandages. “I need to change your dressings. You might wanna look away.”

Morty defied the advice and looked as Rick began unravelling the first bandage and lifting away the dressing. He had expected to see the split skin from the shower, but instead there were intricately uniformed lines holing his skin.

“Stitches?” Morty looked confused.

“What, did you think I was going to leave them open and bleeding everywhere? You have no idea how close to your arteries you were. You nearly, nearly fucking, you almost died, Morty. There’s a reason you’re here and not a ho-hospital. There was no... There w-wasn’t enough time.”

Morty blushed, embarrassed again that he’d become such a burden to his grandfather. He looked away and focused softly on a non-descript section of wall.

“A hundred and seventy-six.” Rick said, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“How many you had. Stitches. Although that may change when I redo that other arm. One of them is bleeding, I th-th-th-think it burst when you hit the f-floor.”

“Oh.”

Morty watched with morbid curiosity as Rick cleaned the cuts delicately with swabs. His touch was so caring and gentle, and completely unlike his usual hap-hazard grip-and-shove style.

He remained silent and Rick seemed to respect that he didn’t want to talk anymore right now. Morty continued to watch as Rick worked on the other arm, pulling out a sterile needle and thread. Morty figured that he couldn’t feel a thing because of the pain relief, but made believe in his mind that Rick was just _that_ good at this.

He was cleaned and had new dressings on in no time. Rick disposed of the old dressings and picked up the pill-bottle and water. He tucked the water bottle under his arm and cracked the lid off the pills, decanting 2 into his hand.

“Take these.” He said, putting the pills into Morty’s palm. “They will make you sleep better.”

Morty shrugged and obliged and Rick handed him the opened water to wash them down. He gulped at the bottle, and returned it to Rick.

Rick put the blanket over Morty and sat back down in the desk chair. He watched Morty fight feebly again his sleep, and then lose and drift off.

Rick hesitated, then strapped Morty down again.


	5. Chapter 5

Rick was startled awake by an alarm from one of Morty’s machines. He had fallen asleep in the desk chair. He immediately leant over to make sure Morty wasn’t critical.

His heart rate and blood pressure had spiked, he was coated in sweat and violently shaking. Rick flicked his eyes to the boy’s temperature reading. Within normal ranges. It must be a bad dream. At least it’s not a fever.

Morty’s back arched away from the bed and he whimpered pathetically in his sleep.

"No no no... Stay... Stay away..." The boy murmured through the dreams.

“It’s alright, Morty. I’m right here with you.” Rick crooned, leaning on the edge of the bed and placing a hand near Morty’s fingers, just touching by the tips.

Morty stopped shivering and his Heart rate and BP started to drop back to a more normal level. He stirred for a moment and his eyes partly opened, just enough to see Rick watching over him.

He made a half attempt at a smile and began drifting back to sleep. Rick moved nearer to the boy’s hand and stroked his knuckles reassuringly.

“I love you, Grandpa Rick.” Morty slurred, sleepily.

Rick sat up suddenly.

“Huh? What?”

Morty was already softly snoring again.

_He loves me?_

Rick slid his hand from Morty’s and into his lab coat. He paused, fractions of an inch from his flask.

_All I’ve done is teach him how to be self-destructive. If I wasn’t here, he would be fine. He would be happy._

He hesitated before grabbing the flask angrily and draining it. He tried to imagine the burning sensation as he swallowed, but he had lost that feeling long ago. He walked back to the fridge and pulled a vodka bottle from the freezer compartment. He cracked the lid and threw it and pulled long, desperate mouthfuls. Stopping after a considerable portion of the bottle was gone.

_He can’t see me like this._

Rick moved to the computer and pulled a strange device out of a drawer in the desk. Hooking it up to both the computer and some of the equipment attached to his Grandson.

He picked up a tablet and turned the screen on. Live footage of Morty in the bed came up, with vital signs from the equipment showing at the bottom.

He left the basement lab and returned into the garage hugging the tablet and the bottle of vodka to his chest.

_I can’t let him see me like this._


	6. Chapter 6

Rick lay on the cool concrete floor of the garage and stared into nothing. It had barely been an hour before the entire litre of vodka had been slugged down. Several bottles were procured from the grocery store (stolen in a quick portal gun trip) and another one sat empty beside the older bottle. Another half full one sat on Rick's other side. The rest had been locked away where Morty definitely couldn't get to them.

Trails of tears lined Rick's face and his chest shuddered as he choked back cries.

_Pathetic._

He could barely hold his vision straight but he turned to the side to check the tablet screen.

_If you weren’t so destructive, he could be happy, he learns this from you._

Vitals were stable. Morty’s chest rose and fell on the screen and he frowned for a moment. But eventually mumbled incoherently before letting out a gentle purring snore.

_You got him into this, you know. You should have been protecting him._

_Fucking useless. Everything you touch turns to shit._

_Fucking_

_Useless._

Rick sat up and launched an empty bottle. It crashed against the garage door and landed in shards across the floor.

_Oh look. More mess to clean up. Just like you cleaned up Morty’s bedroom. Don’t act like you fucking care. You just don’t want his mother to stop him travelling with you. Protecting yourself. Hiding his mental breakdown from his own mother._

“Shut up!”

_You’re just an old man who doesn’t like being lonely._

“Shut up!”

_So, the boy must suffer for you. And you will never change. You don’t even know how!_

“Please.”

_He loves you, and you convince yourself you love him back, but he’s nothing but a tool to you._

“That’s not true.”

_You’re a real piece of shit, Rick Sanchez._

“STOP!” Rick screamed into the empty room. Unsure if the drink had finally got him hallucinating, or if his inner monologue was particularly loud.

Silence followed and he sat up and pulled his knees up, leaning his head into them and ran has hands into his hair and bunched them into fists.

“I  _do_  care.” He simpered weakly into the darkness.

_Then prove it. Protect him. Never let this happen again._

“Rick?” a new voice came through to Rick’s ears. One that soothed him.

Morty.


	7. Chapter 7

He let go of his own hair and grabbed the tablet. On-screen, Morty was trying to sit up. His eyes half open.

Rick tried to get to his feet. Absolutely steaming. He slipped back onto his knees and cursed his bad impulse control.

“R-r-rick... A-a-are you th-there?” the tiny tinge of panic in Morty’s voice tugged at Rick’s heartstrings and gave him the strength he needed to stand. He tugged the trapdoor open and called down.

“I’m just in the garage. I w-w-was hungry.” He lied terribly. “I’ll bring you something down.”  
He saw Morty nod on screen and heard a meek “Okay”. He moved quickly to the kitchen and turned the kettle on.

A few moments later he had a large mug of black coffee. He hated the stuff but had heard it was quite sobering. Even if that was bullshit, it might cover up the scent of quite how much he’d drunk. He stuffed some snacks under his arm and carried his coffee awkwardly back to the basement. He contemplated doing it by portal to make it easier, but considering Morty’s frayed nerves and flashbacks, he decided against it.

“I can’t c-cook for shit, M-m-Morty so it’s snacks.” Rick grumbled, tossing a packet of potato chips and some cookies onto the bed. He sat his coffee down and dug through his coat, finding his cigarettes and sparking up. He took a long drag and blew a plume of smoke to the ceiling, watching it spin and trail its own pattern into the air.

“I-I’ve never seen you smoke before.” Morty commented. Rick half-smiled and shared at the warm orange ember.  
“There’s f-far better st-st-st... Things in the universe. I just haven’t been able to get off-world. So, I’m making the b-best of what’s available.” He eyed Morty suspiciously. “Don’t get any fucking ideas, you already stole my booze you l-l-little asshole.”

Morty rolled his eyes and tried to sit up.

“Uhh... A little help?” he said gesturing at the straps securing his wrists to the bed. Rick had clearly forgotten about the straps, he fretted for a second, worrying he wasn’t sober enough to get them unbundled. He gestured at Morty and drank a mouthful of coffee and flicked his cigarette away carelessly onto the concrete floor before fumbling with the straps. He unstrapped him and sat straight back down in the chair to keep his balance. Morty was glaring at him.

“You’re drunk, a-a-aren’t you?!” Morty tried to shout, but it came out as a croak.  
“Shut up, kid. I’m j-just tired.” Rick immediately defended. He knew the game was up, even if he had got the straps undone, he knew he probably smelled like a distillery.  
“No. You’re wasted. Yo-y-you said you’d b-be there while I s-slept, b-but you’d rather get drunk! The only reason you want me alive is because I c-c-cancel out your brainwaves!”

_He’s nothing but a tool to you._

Rick jumped back out of the seat and grabbed Morty by the wrists, pinning him to the bed. He leant down, nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“That’s enough!” he yelled. “I have b-b-been in h-here with you, keep-keeping you a-fucking-live for I don’t even know how many days! I-I’m trying my fucking best. You don’t get to cr-cr-cr... Judge me!”

An alarm went off beside Morty. He stared wildly into the distance. He shook and whimpered.

“Shit... Morty, y’still with me?” Rick immediately loosened his grip. He waved in front of the kid’s face but his eyes were fixed forward. Obviously reliving that same memory.

“Shit!” Rick kicked the desk chair across the room. It careered off into the corner and fell to one side.

“Morty?! Oh m-man. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I didn’t... Didn’t mean to...” Rick trailed off. There was no excuse for any of his behaviour. He turned his back to the bed and slumped to the floor. He violently rubbed the tears from his face.

It was several minutes before the alarm stopped and Morty breathed normally again.

“R-r-r-”  
“I’m right here, kid.”

Morty looked down over the side of the bed. Rick was sat there, one leg stretched out, one curled up, his head balanced upon his knee.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m drunk.”  
“I kn-” Morty tried to respond but Rick put a hand up, gesturing to let him finish.  
“I’m a piece of shit. I’m self-destructive and I’m an asshole. I’m a bad i-i-influence, a-and I’ve never learned healthy ways t-t-to cope. E-e-everything I touch to-turns to sh-sh-shit. I’m so-sorry. All this, is m-my fa-fault. I-I-” he stopped to sniffle and wipe the tears from his face again. “I  _love_  you, Morty. You... You’re not just a-a tool. I don't care about your brainwaves, I care about  _you_! I’m just n-n-n-not very good at l-l-”  
“Rick. Stand up!” Morty commanded. Rick, shocked at the assertiveness in his voice, obeyed.

Morty was sitting up. He looked at Rick’s tear-stained face and wiped the fresh tears away with his fingers. He tugged Rick’s lab coat so that he stumbled and wrapped his arms around Rick’s shoulders. Rick choked back a cry.  
“We-we’re both a mess ri-right now.” Morty said quietly, not letting Rick go. “You were right. I shouldn’t be judging you. But you promised to be here, and that  _hurt_. So, I was angry. We b-both overreacted. So, h-how about we both shut up and eat the damn chips?”


	8. Chapter 8

 

“So, this Jelly Bean guy, you- you never told me what hap... he actually did.” Rick said casually between a mouthful of chips and a burp. Morty choked on his own chips and scrabbled for the bottle of water.  
“Jeez, Rick! I don’t w-w-want to talk a-about it, okay?! You know what ha-ha-happened, Rick, you shot him for it!” Morty said, pushing the bag of chips away, suddenly not hungry.

“I knew he hurt you. That w-w-was enough. I could guess. You-you’re not a violent k-kid. You wouldn’t have beat him to the c-c-condition he was l-leaving that bathroom in f-for no good reason, and there’s not many r-reasons to d-defend yourself in a bathroom to-that leave y-you unwilling to discuss it.”

Morty stayed silent and looked away. Rick was struggling to keep the casual act up, trying anything to get the kid to open up so he could move forward. He leant on the bed and cupped Morty’s chin, turning Morty to face him with a soft pressure from his calloused hand. He looked at his grandson’s warm brown eyes, full of exhaustion and hurt.

“Morty... I need to know-”  
“No. Rick please” Morty interrupted, desperate to get off the subject. “I can’t do this it all happened weeks ago, I just want to forget p-p-ple-”  
“Did he rape you?”

Morty immediately shot he gaze downwards and paled and started to panic. Not giving him a chance to get lost in his hell inside his own mind, Rick again tilted Morty’s chin softly back upwards to face him.

“Morty grab my sleeve.” He said, very firmly.  
“What?” Morty frowned, trying to understand Rick's sudden change of subject.  
“Just do it!”

Morty grabbed his grandfather’s cuff.

“What does it feel like?” Rick continued. “Don’t look at it. K-keep looking at me, focus on how it feels.”  
“Uh... Like... Like... Rough? No... Smooth... But coarse?” he said, stroking at the fabric between his fingers.  
“Good. K-keep thinking about that. What does it smell like?” Rick maintained eye contact, Morty noticed how concerned he suddenly looked. Tired blue eyes that were piercing, yet soft. Morty found their caring gaze somewhat comforting.  
“I don’t know! I-I’m not sniff-.” Morty was confused. He had no idea where Rick was going with this.  
“Then what do you th-think it smells like?!”  
“L-like you...” Morty made a guess. Rick sounded like he was really desperate for answers for all these sudden demands.  
“Okay... That will have to do I guess... Now count... Count five things in the room that you can hear. You don’t have to tell me them, just tell me when you get to five.”

Morty looked around the room. He could hear one of his machines beeping, the old computer was whirring comfortably, the fridge was buzzing quietly, just inside his range of hearing, the sink in the far corner had an occasional muffled drop. He listened hard, but could hear nothing else.

“I can only count f-four.” Morty observed.  
“Did you include m-me and you?” Rick asked.  
“No, I couldn’t h-hear us, we were quiet... Wait... No... I could hear breathing!”  
“Way to go, Morty! Now,” Rick slipped back into casual mode, and for the first time in weeks Morty felt the exhilarating frustration of trying to keep up with his grandfather’s unpredictable moods. “whenever y-you f-f-feel yourself slipping b-back to that place. Just do what I told you. Focus on h-how something feels, how it s-s-smells, or find five sounds.”

Morty noticed that his panic was almost gone, distracted away by the barrage of his senses to things in this world, where he was right now. He gave a half smile and nodded, realising the desperation in Rick's voice was from wanting to keep him feeling safe in the room, and away from the flashbacks he'd been getting in increasing frequencies since the attack.  
“I can try!” he said, almost enthusiastically. Rick grinned and ruffled Morty’s hair.  
“I can help you, if you get stuck. It takes practice. You won't always get it right, a-and it won't always be enough, but we'll find ways that work.” Rick offered. Morty nodded.

Rick’s face faltered as he realised his sense of achievement was short-lived and he had to ask  _that_  question again.

“Did-“  
“No. He didn’t.” Morty interrupted, not keen to hear the question repeated.

Rick exhaled deeply with relief. He hadn’t looking forward to the potential event of running STI tests on the poor boy. Particularly not on someone as sensitive and vulnerable as Morty was right now, especially considering how violated he would undoubtedly already be feeling.

His hand reflexively rubbed the back of his own neck nervously.

“Did he try to?”

Morty nodded and tears welled in his eyes, pooling and spilling over and down his cheeks in floods. He let out a whimpering sob and covered his face, not wanting Rick to see him this way.

_I should have made that motherfucker suffer far more. Instant death was too fucking good for him._

“Morty... I-.” Rick extended a hand to console him, but thought twice and retracted it, feeling like Morty was made of glass, and that even the slightest touch would shatter him completely. “I am so s-s-sorry this happened to you.”  
“I can’t even stand m-my own s-s-skin!” he juddered out between sobs. “Like I can still feel him crawling all over me and- and-.” Morty moved his hands from his face and curled them against his chest. His eyes darted to the five sounds, he grabbed Rick’s arm and felt the sleeve of his lab coat again.

He leant his head towards Rick, who moved forward and let Morty settle against his chest. Morty inhaled and caught the scent of dusty worktops, alcohol, tobacco, and that one smell that could only be described as ‘Rick’. That part of his scent that no one else could have.

“I feel so disgusting.” Morty whispered.  
“You did  _nothing_  wrong, Morty.” Rick said, trying to hold his temper, absolutely boiling over with anger at what been done to his Morty.  
“I nearly stopped fighting. I nearly just let it happen. For a m-moment I couldn’t m-move.”  
“That’s a natural response." Rick reassured him, "Like a deer in head-headlights. Fortunately, your Fight or Flight instincts were more powerful.”

Rick looked down at Morty, who looked even smaller now than he ever had.

“I’m going to put my arm around you, okay?” Rick asked. “You’re doing really g-g-good on st-staying in the room.”

Morty nodded and Rick wrapped an arm around and held him tight, feeling like he might vanish at any moment.

He placed a loving kiss on the crown of Morty’s head.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Rick didn’t know how long he had been standing there with his head leant protectively on top of Morty’s, one arm wrapped around the boy, but the warm steady breaths against his blue shirt suggested that the boy was asleep again.

Rick was unsurprised. In fact, he had expected Morty to sleep longer than he had and suspected the sleeping tablets were still in his system. Smoothly, he shifted the boy into a laying position in the bed. He hesitated at the arm straps, before deciding to leave them off. A lot of the tubes and wires would be removed from Morty’s body soon, now that he had been able to retain lucid consciousness and seemed to be out of any real physical danger. The straps wouldn’t really be necessary.

He pulled a clipboard from the edge of the bed, jotting down the figures in each of the machines, correlating them with the previous values and establishing that Morty was indeed, stable. Blood pressure was up, but not to a concerning degree. Kidney and Liver function was acceptable still. He allowed himself a satisfied side-smile.

_He’s going to be okay... Physically, anyway._

Rick fretted about the other part... He was aware of some the processes and practices behind the recovery from this kind of trauma, but all of this was not something he’d been able to practice. Psychology had always been more of a social skill than a science to him, and he regretted having not taken it so seriously in the past now that it had become somewhat relevant.

The vast quantities of alcohol were wearing off. Rick’s head pounded and the insides of his eyes flashed every time his heart made a beat. The sounds around the room were like a knife in his ears. He fumbled for his flask and took a mouthful, careful to open the lid as quietly as he could. His head swam slightly from the effects wearing off but the new dose of his favourite ‘medicine’ kicked in quick and made the pain more bearable.

Fatigue was crippling him and he realised his eyes were straining to stay awake. Trying to hold a train of thought was devolving from something perfectly rational into waking dream nonsense. Eyeing the makeshift timepiece he’d created to work during a time freeze, he calculated that it had been over 5 days since he had slept, excluding the 2 hours he’d managed to catch earlier. He shifted and pulled his portal gun out and created a portal on the wall, an opening appeared that lead to his own bedroom upstairs. Grumbling about wasting charge to himself, he leant into the portal and pulled his cot-bed through, pushing it up beside Morty’s bed.

The beds were completely mismatched in height. Rick flopped himself down onto his bed and realised he was a good two feet lower than Morty’s bed. He stretched an arm up onto Morty’s bed and found his Grandson’s hand and clutched it before quickly giving in to his own exhaustion.


	10. Chapter 10

  
Morty woke to a robotic voice that intruded into his sleep. He felt well rested for the first time in what felt like forever. The crispness of the blanket covering him was warm and comforting. The beeps and the mild sensation of the wires attached to his body, whilst irritating, were also comforting in their own way. He felt cared for, taken care of, and almost loved. His head swirled with the residual drowsiness of the sleeping pills from before he first fell asleep, and in that drowsiness the trauma, and the emotional pain, all seemed so distant.

The robotic voice continued and as Morty slowly found himself more lucid in the land of the living, he started to make sense of the sounds around him and the words being repeated.

“Pain relief empty, restock immediately... Pain relief empty, restock immediately.”

He opened his eyes slowly to the familiar image of the lab. Rick was nowhere to be seen and Morty wondered if he was off drinking again. He began to feel guilty about the outburst from the previous day. It was never a secret that Rick was deep in the depths of his alcoholism, and the amount of pressure Morty had inadvertently placed on him was surely reason enough to exacerbate that.

A faint grunt was heard beside the bed, and Morty managed to shuffle himself onto his side and keep his wires untangled. Peering over the edge of the bed his saw Rick, curled up on his cot-bed, purring a soft snore in his sleep.

Morty studied his grandfather’s tired face, more ashen than his usual faded-tan skin appeared to be. Rick’s frown relaxed and he hiccoughed very lightly and shifted himself before resettling in the same position, curved towards Morty’s bed, one arm hugging himself, the other bent up with his palm relaxing a few inches in front of his face. His knees bent to fit his feet onto the bed.

Morty considered waking Rick but the guilt reminded him that Rick was probably quite sleep deprived even by _his_ standards. He curled himself up on his own bed, hitching his breath a little as the slowly wearing-off pain relief allowed him to feel the pain in his arms. He pulled the blanket over himself very delicately and stifled a whimper.

“Pain relief empty, restock immediately...”

Morty tried to control his breathing, and as the pain increased he clasped his arms tightly to his chest and rocked himself. Desperate not to cause any further issues for Rick than he already had.

“Pain relief empty, restock immediately...”

  
“Mnh?”

Rick growled lowly at the sound of the alarm, finally gaining consciousness. He jerked upright quickly and stood up to check the machine creating the noise, steadying himself against the wall.

“Ugh.” He grunted, shuffling over to some drawers. He pulled a pack out and aptly switched it with the empty pack inside the machine and watched it work its way down the tube to Morty. Morty’s position on the bed startled him.

“Shit, You’re awake?!” he explained, having expected the young lad to wake him as soon as he was awake.

“Uh-huh.” Morty choked back a cry as he acknowledged Rick.

“Oh fuck, dude, y-y-you should have woken me! H-h-how long has th-that been empty?!”

“I don’t kn-know. A little... Little while.”

Rick rested a hand on Morty’s head, observing his tightly closed eyes and grimace.

“You’d rather... You’d rather s-sit there in pain than wake me, you fucking d-dumbass?” Rick barked, softer than normal. His impulsive words reread already escaping before he could stop them, but he didn’t feel like Morty deserved a hard time right now. He ruffled Morty’s locks with light concern at the lack of response. “You st-still with m-me, Morty?”

Morty nodded.

“I’d rather hold v-v-very s-st-still and stay q-quiet until the pain stops. Sorry.”

Rick sighed and shoved the cot-bed into a dark corner, returning to the bed, he lowered the bars on the side and sat beside Morty’s shaking form.

“You got it, kid.” He put a hand on Morty’s shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling manner. “It’s fast acting. You shouldn’t hurt for long.”

Rick sat silently beside Morty in a burning awkwardness. Usually he wouldn’t give a crap if Morty was quiet, but he felt so invested in the boy’s wellbeing that his words escaped like they were burning to escape.

“I’m sorry. I-I’m responsible for this. I should nev-“

He stopped himself. Knowing that nothing he could say could undo what was already done

“I-if y-you don’t want... Want to come on our a-a-adventures anymore... I u-understand.”

Morty frowned. The pain was ebbing away but Rick was swarming him with anxiety. He flexed an arm to assess his pain levels, which were still higher than he’d like, but more acceptable than they had been.

“Rick. Please shut up! You c-c-couldn’t have known what was going to happen. It’s not y-your fault that _other people_ are bad people.” He reached an arm out for Rick’s hand, squeezing it tight when he found it. “I n-n-need our adventures, Rick. I d-don’t always like th-the shit you-... we’re in, b-but I don’t think I could g-go back to a l-life w-w-without them. Without you.”

Rick shrugged and looked at his legs, swinging his feet idly.

“I should never have come back to the f-f-family, n-now I-I-I can’t leave again. N-now I’m h-hurting you. I was s-s-selfish to return.”

“Rick… Rick th-that is what family is f-f-for. We h-h-hurt each other, b-”

“Your p-parents a-aren’t exactly the best teachers of what family is a-about-”

“Shut up, Rick! We hurt each other, but we f-fix those things a-a-and make s-s-something better! We come out better! We s-support each other. I-it’s not all one-w-way. S-s-so stop tr-trying to p-push m-my support away!”

Rick glared at Morty and huffed.

“Is that what our t-t-time together i-is for you, M-Morty?! You th-th-think you’re he-here j-j-just for s-support?! Well I don’t n-n-need y-your support! But obviously, b-because of me, y-you need mine now.”

Morty groaned loudly.

“Seriously, a-are you done feeling s-s-sorry for y-yourself?! I s-s-said it wasn’t y-your fault already. You d-d-didn’t choose that w-w-world. Y-you didn’t find th-that bar. Y-you d-d-didn’t use that bathroom. Y-you d-d-didn’t c-c-cause this. Q-quit the fucking pity party!”

Morty put his head in his hands and sighed. Rick folded his arms defensively, he glowered at his own knees, not wanting to look Morty in the face.

“That’s fucking rich, coming from the guy who was bleeding to death in the sh-sh-shower! W-why do you get to throw y-y-your o-own p-pity party, b-but n-not me?!”

“Because I tried to _end_ the pity party. You’ve been forcing yourself to l-l-live it forever! Letting it push a-a-anyone who cares away, s-so that th-they o-o-only get to know you on a s-s-superficial level! A-a-and now that you _do_ have p-people who care, and y-y-you _can’t_ run, you need t-t-to l-l-learn how to be a part of that!”

Rick felt his head reeling, he knew he was lashing out to try and give Morty an easy way out of their trips. Frustrated that he wouldn’t the opportunity to step out of their time together, that the kid was empathetic enough to know Rick relied on his support. He didn’t deserve his support. He knew if he didn’t convince Morty to retract his support now, then he’d never willingly give up his support in the future. He would suck the family dry and destroy them.

“Fuck off, Morty. It’s n-none of your business. I’m trying to support you right now. This isn’t the time for you to s-s-support me.”

“Rick, we’re frozen in time. Wh-who the fuck else is going to support you?”

“I told you, I don’t _need_ your fucking s-support!”

“You really believe that? B-because I don’t think th-that’s true, Rick. Y-you like to make people feel… l-like they’re not important t-t-to you, but really you just d-d-don’t want to be important to them. S-so it doesn’t hurt them so much when you leave. B-b-but this time you fucked up, Rick. F-family doesn’t st-st-stop thinking you’re important. Family doesn’t stop loving you. Family doesn’t stop supporting you just because you let your self-destruction trash everything else you have. We just help yo-you back on your feet and hope one day... Maybe you’ll feel like y-you deserve your successes and... And stop destroying them.”

Rick dropped onto his feet and walked to the exit. Morty cocked his head to one side quizzically.

“Where are you going, Rick?”

“I’m going to get drunk again so that when I come to disconnect you from all of this m-m-machinery l-later, I won’t have to listen to all your bullshit, Morty!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the massive delay for a bit of a bland chapter considering the time taken. It's that time of year where I start getting really sick and spend my days trying to keep my lungs on the inside of my body and not kill myself. Normal Schedule will probably resume somewhere in Jan/Feb.

Morty sat in silence, stunned that Rick had walked away. He knew Rick was pissed off, but he didn’t think he’d walk away from the conversation altogether.

He felt the strange feeling of the pain relief again, like being balled up in cotton, somehow completely detached from his own physical sensation, Christ only knows the legitimacy of the sort of stuff Rick was obtaining for this, but Morty appreciated the lack of pain right now.

It did, however, make it difficult to try and figure out why Rick reacted so badly to him, why this whole thing had to turn into an argument.

He sat himself up in bed and looked around the dim lab. There was absolutely nothing within reach for him to occupy himself with.

He neatened what little he could reach of the bed around him, smoothing out the sheet, fluffing the pillow back up, folding the blanket down towards the messy end of the bed, the part he couldn’t reach without tugging at the wires tethered to him.

He desperately tried to keep his mind occupied. Despite the general feeling of calm, he was petrified of thinking about _that_ and didn’t want to give it a chance to creep to his forethoughts.

He found the controls for the bed on a little controller on the side and put the backrest back up and leant onto it and sighed.

He counted the pieces of blue tack on the wall, he counted the tubes, he counted the machines. He sighed and groaned and then flopped backwards into the lying position again.

He closed his eyes and laid there for what felt like an eternity.

Something in the garage above crashed and he sat jolted back upright. Another crash followed, and another.

“R-Rick?!” Morty motioned to get up but found himself tangled among the various cables. He pulled and stifled any agonising sound as he tried to wrench the wires from his body, the pain far more intense than the previous time when he still had a full stock of pain-relief in his system. A machine behind him began alarming loudly to signify something somewhere had loosened from his body.

The hatch to the lab slammed back and Rick stumbled with a clumsy swiftness back into the room.

“Morty?! Are you-“ Rick saw that Morty was fine and that any alarms had been set off by Morty’s struggling. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Morty, sit the fuck down.”

“I-I heard smashing! I thought something had happened!” Morty panted, clutching at his side, where a small patch of red was staining his top.

“It w-w-was me, you idiot! Nothing happened!” Rick slurred as he walked over and flipped the alarming machine off. “Congratulations on the chunk of your liver you just rr-r-ripped out though. I’m sure that doesn’t hurt at all!”

The air around Rick was strong with the scent of alcohol. Morty could have sworn it was making his eyes sting.

“Shut up, Rick! It doesn’t matter! It d-d-doesn’t even h-hurt.”

“Doesn’t hurt?! T-t-tell me that again when I take y-y-you off the Morphine.”

Morty stared defiantly at Rick, who place an arm on the boys chest and shove him back down on the bed.

“Now hold still and shut the fuck up while I detach all this shit.”

“You can’t do it now! Y-y-you’re blind drunk!”

“I was drunk most of the time you were unconscious and I managed just fine!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t angry then and you are now!”

“ _You think I wasn’t angry?!”_

Rick’s voice suddenly sounded very sober and the hair on the back of Morty’s neck stood on end. He tries to respond but something stopped him, like he was choking on his own words.

“ _I was fucking furious! Furious that I hadn’t seen this coming. Furious that no one else saw this coming. Furious that something had happened to you that I didn’t stop. Furious that you would want to die before me and leave me behind.”_

Morty looked gobsmacked at his Grandfather, but Rick’s face _dared_ him to interrupt.

Rick pulled the seat over and began gently detaching Morty from the spider of cables surrounding him.

“Yes, M-Morty, I was angry. But some things are m-more important than how I feel.”

Morty heard Rick’s voice begin to slur and felt fleetingly confused by the moment of clarity in Rick’s words. He remained silent and let Rick work in peace.

“I’m sorry.” Rick said suddenly, not looking up from his work.

“Huh?”

“For... For e-earlier. Maybe I d-do need s-support. I just don’t want th-the strain on you.”

“It’s not a strain. I e-enjoyed the adventures b-because I got to see you happy. I wanted to support you b-because I th-thought it was making you happy”

Rick started wrapping up old tubes and putting them in a yellow refuse bag. He took it to a grate in the wall and pushed it in. Flames illuminated the area behind the grate and the bag was gone.

“I want you with me.” Rick said shortly. He sat back beside the bed. “Arms out, Morty. Gonna change your dressings.”

Morty unfolded his arms and Rick took his hand and slowly unravelled the first bandage. “I know I’m an asshole. B-b-but I can’t do this as an emotional bullshit heart to fucking heart. I _do_ appreciate your support.”

Morty hesitated and decided he didn’t need to say anything. Rick tossed the bandage to one side, pulling sterile swabs from somewhere inside his lab coat and delicately wiping down Morty’s stitches. Morty sat sideways on the bed and gave Rick the other arm to work on.

“Do you w-want the bandages back on?”  
  
Morty looked up at Rick, who was still lost in his concentration.  
  
“Uh, I don’t have to wear them?”

“N-n-not if you don’t want to. Skin heals quickly, s-so long as they’re clean and the stitches don’t come l-loose again you’ll be fine.”

Morty shrugged.

“If it’s easier.”

“Of course, it’s easier! I wanted t-to know i-if it would be t-too hard on you, idiot!” Rick facepalmed.

“Oh.” Morty looked embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s fine to leave them off.”

Rick sat back, “In which case, I’m done. The only thing still attached is your quantum morphine, and that one can’t stop yet, but it’s hooked up to a machine on wheels so you can move about in the lab at least.”


End file.
